Rapture
by GlitterFrog
Summary: It's Emily's birthday, and Bonejangles has forgotten. ...Or has he? One-shot. Please don't flame. Thank you so much.


A/N: I love Beethoven's Ode to Joy. You may imagine my thrill when I found it on iTunes. While I was listening to it about 800 times, this oneshot was born. Hope you enjoy.

Rapture

Ode to Joy was her favorite song. Whenever it came on, Emily dashed to the radio and crouched with its tinny speaker pressed to her weather-eaten ear, and everyone in the pub did their best to shush each other so their friend could hear. And she'd listen, her face tipped towards the ceiling, eyes closed, smiling, lips parted as she almost inaudibly hit the notes along with whatever choir happened to be performing at the time. Sometimes, if the choir was strong and passionate enough, she would crank the tiny volume dial a quarter-inch past its maximum setting and stand up. The lovely bride would direct an invisible choir(or perhaps an orchestra, depending on her mood), adopting a semiserious Beethoven scowl, her huge eyes fairly glowing with enthusiastic energy. On those occasions, the members in the pub would applaud, and she would both take a bow and curtsey. Bonejangles always applauded the loudest. (Often, this would be accomplished by his banging on a friend's head, since he usually let Emily conduct with his right arm)

Emily had so hoped that it would play on her birthday. Though she kept close to the radio, no luck. Since Emily was one of the few in the land of the dead that could still remember her birthday, her special day was something of an occasion in her neighborhood. Although she insisted that they not make too much of a fuss, her friends always baked a cake, decked out the pub, and bought or made presents. It had rained all day. Maggot had woken up only for presents. Bonejangles hadn't shown. The band had passed on a card that he'd written, and told those who asked that he was 'busy'. Oliver had only shrugged. What kind of business could he have that required keeping his band and family in the dark? That just wasn't like him. He'd never missed a 'swinging good time' before, let alone his best friend's birthday.

That stung. Emily was really trying not to dwell on it. She didn't know what was going on. Maybe he had business in the world of the living. Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe he was going to spring a surprise on her and the rest of the pub. As the hours oozed by, this last theory grew ever bleaker. At last, at almost eight PM, Bonejangles shouldered the door open, looking a little bit flustered. "Hey, everybody! Happy birthday, Em." "Thank you, Bonejangles," Emily replied, just a bit coolly. The vivacious skeleton rubbed the back of his skull and chuckled uncomfortably. "Heh- I know I'm late. But can ya go outside with me…that is, if yer not too sore?" Emily _was _sore, but she was so relieved that he was okay and so curious to find out what had kept him that she didn't entertain the idea of sulking inside and turning him away for longer than a few of Maggot's snores. "Sure, Bonejangles."

She slid her fleshless hand into the crook of his arm, and he escorted her down the cobbled street. They were pretty quiet on the way out of town, which wasn't at all normal (or comfortable) for either of them. Bonejangles led the way down many a winding street and unbeaten path. Every so often, he'd cryptically tell his friend that they were 'getting closer'. Emily started to get put out. She hadn't had dinner yet, and she always got cranky when she was hungry. The bleak sky was still drizzling, and all the bride knew of their destination was that they had yet to arrive at it. To make her joy complete, the combined forces of the long walk and the wet ground were playing havoc with her joints. Pretty soon, her more decomposed leg was seizing up so much that she had to stop and bend over in a very unladylike fashion to smack and shake it about every hundred and fifty feet. Eventually, her escort hit his threshold. With no more warning than "Upsy-daisy, Em," he scooped her off her feet and plonked her onto his shoulderbones. "Oop!" Emily's initial floundering quickly morphed into a death grip.

"Easy, girlie. I gotcha," Bonejangles crooned, giving her one remaining calf a reassuring pat. Emilyclung to him for another thirty seconds anyway. Once she was sure that her friend wasn't going to buckle, the blue beauty relaxed enough to stop treating his collarbone like a lifeline. The dapper jazz singer carried her piggyback-style the rest of the way, waving off her half-baked claims that she felt better now. As he climbed a dirt trail that led to the top of a grassy knoll, Bonejangles instructed, "Close yer eyes, doll, and don't ya go opening 'em till I say 'open'!" "Why?" Emily pressed, itching with equal parts irritation and curiosity. "Just do it, birthday gal." Ignoring Maggot's snickering, Emily heaved a silent sigh and closed her eyes. To ensure that Bonejangles was satisfied, she went a step further and covered her eyes with her blue hand. Once he was sure that his friend wasn't peeking, Bonejangles rattled up the hill. Emily could feel a nervous excitement coming off him, similar to the antsiness he projected just before the debut of a new song or the announcement of a new gig.

She heard him stifle a giggle. Emily hung on a little bit tighter as they descended, and he held her a little bit more tightly, which made her feel better. The ground leveled beneath Bonejangles's metatarsals. Before long, his bones were clicking on stone or some other hard and unyielding surface. The echoes of his footsteps feathered waaaaaay above both their heads and leapt from walls that had to be incredibly far apart. "No peeking!" "I'm not!" The bride protested, although she could feel her eyeballs fairly quivering with the urge to fly open and figure out where they were. Soft orchestral music warbled like a distant brook. The room felt airy and warm, like the inside of a giant pastry. The air even smelled sweet and vaguely fruity. Emily sniffed appreciatively, savoring the hints of spices and-sniff, sniff- pomegranate? The music grew the tiniest bit louder as Bonejangles paused, turned left, then stopped entirely.

"Down ya go." His arm joints clicked as he lifted Emily from his shoulderbones and set her down on what felt like a cushion. The backs of her legs touched what felt like cold stone. The music became a presence; it was no longer lovely background whispering. Just when she could stand it no longer, Bonejangles chuckled and told her, "Okay, baby- look away." Emily tore her hand away like it had been burned, and drank in her surroundings. A gasp caught in her bluish throat. Candlelight glowed in hundreds, maybe even thousands, of elegant clusters fixed at varying heights. Stone walls soared to meet a domed ceiling painted like a night sky filled with angels bright as trails of fire. The angels' outspread wings appeared to be made of real gold. Every feather gleamed amongst the glimmering painted stars. Pews hewn out of stone faced a full orchestra, a sizable choir, and a grand piano. Sitting at the piano was none other than Ludwing van Beethoven, in the bones. He intercepted Emily's gape and winked at her. A tall, reedy conductor waved, haloed softly in candlelight.

As Beethoven turned back to the piano, Bonejangles set a picnic basket on his kneecap and pulled back its lid to reveal delicate pastries (Emily's favorites), fresh fruit, and hearty sandwiches. The music swelled, and the long-dead choir burst into…Ode to Joy. Emily's hands drifted over her mouth and pressed just below her nostrils. Tears glittered in her eyes; one rolled into the gouge on her cheek. "Emily?" Bonejangles asked, worried, "…You okay?" He had to holler directly in her ear to be heard over the choir, which you can imagine did not please Maggot in the slightest. All Emily could do was close her eyes and let the tears flow. She was lost in the swell and soar of the orchestra and the dozens of voices raised for the sheer joy of singing. As the last few sweet echoes drifted away into the night, Bonejangles took Emily's bony hand and gave it a squeeze. "Happy birthday, baby."

Emily hugged him so tightly that she nearly broke one of his ribs. She was too euphoric to speak more than a few words or sleep at all for two entire days. It was the best birthday that she could ever remember having on either side of the grave. Later, the pub-goers would celebrate it as the day that she and Bonejangles officially started going steady.


End file.
